


Sansa of Winterfell

by Nabila



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Conspiracy, Drama, F/M, Jon is a Stark, Love at First Sight, Nobleman falling in love with a servant, Romance, Sansa is a servant, an old italian tv series, characters might be OOC, i couldn't come up with a name for the septa, it's an Elisa di Rivombrosa Au, so her name is septa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-11-03 16:19:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10970889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nabila/pseuds/Nabila
Summary: Jon Stark is the Count of Winterfell, son of Eddard and Catelyn Stark. Enlisted in the Westerosi army, he's been missing from home for ten long years. Upon receiving a letter about the concerning health conditions of his mother, he decides to return home. The letter is signed Sansa of Winterfell, a name he had never heard of before.





	1. Chapter 1

_Winterfell, 2nd April 1769_

 

_Dear Lord Count Stark,_

_I am writing to deliver you the news about the grievous health conditions of your beloved Mother Countess Catelyn Stark, who has been emotionally distraught by your absence throughout all these years. The Doctor has warned us that your Mother, already ill and unwell due to her old age, may aggravate her condition as a result of her sadness and melancholy._  
_You have been missing from your home for ten years, I courteously beg you to return where everyone has been awaiting to welcome you back._

_Winterfell needs you._

  
_Yours faithfully,_

  
_Sansa of Winterfell_

  
Jon firmly held the piece of paper in his callous hands, carefully reading the words of concern for his Mother's health and that name at the bottom of it. He had never heard the woman’s name before, but he had been missing from his home for ten long years, he certainly may return and find people he had never met before, and a place he may not recognize. 

He was a soldier, enlisted in the Westerosi army to serve King Rhaegar Targaryen, traveling and fighting for His Majesty beyond the Narrow Sea in the unknown, steaming lands of Essos and up North beyond Winterfell, in the rigid Lands of Always Winter. In the last year he had been in Dorne, resting in the camp waiting for orders from the King to oblige to; the sedentary life among soldiers during that period of peace made him miss his home the most. He wished to go back to Winterfell to his Mother, his sister Arya, to his Father’s tomb and to all people serving his family. It had been a dream of many nights spent alone in his tent.

His mother wept the day he was recruited in the army, she wished for him to stay to rule in her stead and to marry a noble woman who would give her grandchildren to be surrounded by. But he had decided to leave - his loyalty to the King and a deep wound in his heart exceeded his desire to carry on his family name.

That letter arrived right in the moment he was considering to return to see his family once again.

 

* * *

 

 

“Sansa! where is Sansa?” Countess Catelyn Stark was feebly shouting for her lady companion.

She was the old Countess of Winterfell, born from a noble family of the Riverlands, she had married Count Eddard Stark those many years ago in a lavish ceremony as a scared young woman who had met her betrothed only once.They grew to respect, admire, trust and finally love one another throughout their marriage. Suffering and joys had followed them, uniting them and making their union stronger with each passing day. Miscarriages and still-borns deeply scarred the Countess, until Jon came into their world, soothing the wounds in her heart with his mere existence. Late in her years Arya came, a feisty little girl Catelyn nurtured in spite of her advanced age. 

She was respected and loved by everyone, a woman who couldn’t deny a roof and food to her servants, who strongly believed in the Crown and the privileges of the Noble Houses that for hundreds of years had reigned over the lands of the Royal Family.

She was used to be known as a fierce, rigid, proud and honorable woman. She was generous with her people, but expected no error to be made by the ones who served her. With the advancement of age though, her character and her pretensions mitigated and became a more docile woman with a Lady companion by her side to help her in her last days of life, a young girl named Sansa.

Sansa was a servant, born and raised in poverty, with no father, a ill mother and a little sister to take care of. Her freedom paid a trifle from a inn where she served drunken Lords from early morning to late night; swept the floor and cleaned the tables while beaten up by the owner of the filthy inn. She learned to never expect anything from anyone and to never ask for respect, especially from the rich Lords that visited the inn in desperate need of sexual pleasure from the harlots that lurked around. 

Sansa’s fortune was her knowledge. She was taught how to read, how to write and to use her brain by the parish priest of her town who had noticed a great intellect in her and decided to teach her everything he knew. The Countess, in one of her last journeys to the Capitol, had met the girl with long, auburn hair in Church praying for a better future and a better world, so she took her with her to Winterfell to be her Lady companion, despite she had only been a maid all her life.

“Countess, I’m here. Are you swell?” Sansa rapidly entered the library where the Countess was seated.

“fatigued and concerned, my sweet Sansa. My daughter Arya has not married yet, not been promised to anyone and she has no will to take care of our Castle. The only one who can is my only son Jon, but he has been away for ten years. He won’t come back," she breathlessly said the words holding her hand onto Sansa’s arms who was kneeled before her.

“No Countess, he will be back. I am sure. You need not to worry” she comforted her hoping the letter she had sent had been delivered to him and by now Jon Stark was already on his way back home.

“I need to rest now. Take me to my chamber, Sansa.”

“Yes Ma’am”

“Sansa! here you are,” Countess Lyanna, Catelyn’s sister in law and beloved Eddard Stark’s sweet sister, entered the library.

“Countess” Sansa courted before her.

Lyanna stared at Sansa “Is this reading time? Racine? Molière?” she asked, hassled by her presence.

Sansa kept her eyes low, “no I was about to accompany Lady Catelyn in her chamber”.

“Need a rest my sister?” Lyanna used to call Catelyn “sister”, after Ned’s death she was the only family she had left except for her nephew and niece. A woman whose decision to stay nubile had been severely judged by the nobles of Westeros. Many suitors over the years, each one politely rejected, caused the rise of whispers all over the Kingdom, whispers of a mystery man who had taken her maidenhood when she was a young girl and had marked her for the rest of her life. Many thought he was a mere servant she fell in love with, others thought she had been raped. But the truth only lay with her and no one would ever know about it.

“Don’t worry Lyanna, Sansa is with me. Do you need anything else?”

“Sansa, come outside. I need a word with you,” she ordered without listening to her sister in law.

Sansa followed the Countess and waited for her to speak, “when you’re done with Catelyn, go to the kitchens right away. I’m sure they have chores for you.”

It was no secret Lyanna felt a deep jealousy towards Sansa. She was young, beautiful, poor but with the look of a noble woman and above all she had conquered Catelyn’s heart, belittling her importance in the Countess last days of her life and rising in her a rage she couldn't tame.  
Any time Sansa was no longer needed by the Countess, Lyanna would harshly command her to go back in the servants area and complete her duties of maid, as though to remind her where she belonged.

Lyanna wasn’t a terrible woman though. She had a good heart, just like her brother Ned, but many years alone, the burden of a secret and the voices talking behind her back made her jealousy towards a simple girl spreading over the limits of proper sense.

“Mi Lady, your sister is feeling unwell. I’d prefer stay close to her” Sansa objected, not daring to look in her eyes.

“No one has asked you to talk. Mine is an order. I’m going to take care of her if needed. You go in the servant area and stay there until my sister will need your service after dinner. Is that clear?”

Sansa lowered her head, “Yes, my Lady”. She bowed and hastily ran to the kitchens.

 

* * *

 

  
“What are you doing here Sansa? The Countess?” Septa Mordane was the oldest of the servant of the Stark family. She was Jon’s nursemaid, she had seen him growing up and become a young man and like his Mother, she had witnessed him leaving for fifteen long years and never come back.

“Lady Lyanna sent me here. She’s….”

“urgh again? did you tell her you’re the Lady companion of the Countess of this Castle?”

“She’s a Countess as well, I have to abide by her orders,” she sat down on the chair next to Septa as she was peeling the potatoes.

“I have something to tell you,” Sansa whispered in her ear “the Count may return.”

Septa turned her head, “Sansa don’t say such things. He’s in the army! He’s pledged to serve and guard the King!”

“I wrote him a letter to tell him about his Mother’s conditions” she explained with smile upon her face, proud of her secret letter.

“Oh Sansa, I have prayed countless nights for his return, but it’s not going to happen!”

Sansa furrowed her eyebrows in disagreement, “you’re implying he wouldn’t head back for his Mother? she’s not going to live for long and..”

“Don’t talk like this about our Countess!”

“He had to know about her precarious health and if this is going to make him come back home, then the better for all of us. Wouldn’t it be better to have him here instead of following Lady Lyanna’s commands?”

Septa sighed “dear, listen to me. You have never met Lord Stark, you don't know why he went away and why he decided to join the army. Those who have ever known him lost any hope to see him back in Winterfell. Besides, he’s hard-headed, wild, impertinent and arrogant,” she remembered the days the young Jon Stark would ride freely in his own lands, when he would come back late at night completely drunk and would court all the beautiful ladies of the main Houses of Westeros. "I'm not sure you'd be so happy to serve him."

“Well, this is not how the Countess described him to me,” Sansa retorted after hearing for the first a different description of the Count she had only seen in one of Lady Catelyn’s portrait in her chamber.

“He has good qualities as well. He’s a honorable man like his father before him, he has a good heart, he’s…observant and a great leader. And as all noble men, he’s lettered. But after all these years in the army, who knows what it is left of the boy I knew” she wistfully thought of the boy she had raised.

“He must be a man now. He’ll come back and you’re going to hug him again” she smiled.

“look who’s here!” a guy shouted from the door “our lady Sansa of Winterfell!”

“Hello Theon,” she greeted him.

“So the most beautiful woman of the Castle has decided to join us poor lads,” he kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m always one of you, just because I sleep in the chamber next to the Countess doesn’t mean I am no servant” she reminded him.

“well, does that mean you’re going to marry one of us one day?” Theon was not subtle about his feelings for Sansa. He wanted her, he wished for her to be his wife one day and have children to raise close to Winterfell.

“Maybe Theon. Maybe.” She reluctantly answered a question she did not wish it was asked so many times. Considering the conditions of the Countess were worsening and the day she would leave this world was coming ahead, everyone expected from Sansa to get married with the stable boy and have children. An expectation she loathed and despised.

 

* * *

 

 

“Count Stark, I heard you’re headed back to Winterfell” Jon was preparing his horse when General Tyrell approached him.

“I am. I received discouraging news about my mother.”

“Count Stark, before you head back home, I have a mission for you,” Jon sighed heavily in discomfort

“You do not have to worry,” the General reassured him “It won’t take you away from home, although it is a very dangerous matter in our hands.”

Jon knowingly smiled “obviously, otherwise you would have asked someone else.”

The General chuckled “you are my most trusted man, Count Stark.” He took out a wax sealed letter from his pocket “these are important, dangerous documents. I cannot tell you what it is written inside, but the life of His Majesty depends on this.”

Jon grabbed the documents and put them in his bag “who do I have to entrust these documents to?”

“Captain Blackfyre. He’ll be waiting for you at Moat Cailin. You’re going to hand these documents only to him. Be careful, we have lots of enemies, ruthless enemies.”

A shrewd smile formed on Jon’s lips, “I can be ruthless too.”

“Have a good journey and pay my homage to your Mother.”

 

Jon rode for days headed to Moat Cailin, getting little sleep in different inns. The way home was long and tortuous, filled with danger and apparently enemies who wanted to put their hands on those documents.

He arrived to Moat Cailin after a week where he met Captain Blackfyre, a trusted advisor of the King. Safely, Jon handed the documents getting rid of such burden he had taken for days.

As they were both drinking water from the brook, Jon heard a sudden shot. He turned his head and saw the Captain falling on the ground and two men from afar. Instinctively he shot at the first man running towards him, as the second man extracted his gun and shot at him, he crouched on the ground hidden by a rock. Jon rapidly reloaded his gun and shot back, twice. Both men dead.

Jon reached for the Captain who was lying on the ground with a serious wound on his chest

“The documents” he whispered “to the King.”

Jon shook his head “we have to think about you first.”

“No, you have to run away fast. The documents…only to the King. No one else,” he exhaled his last breath and died in Jon’s arms.

Jon retrieved the documents and looked at those piece of papers with fear. He thought for a second to throw them away, but instead he mounted on his horse and rode to Winterfell, unaware of how he was going to hand the documents to the King without putting his family in jeopardy.

 

  
“COUNT JON. COUNT JON. COUNT JON” Theon was screaming at the sight of his old friend at the gates of the Castle.

Septa Mordane rushed to see with her own eyes the boy she had raised back home. All servants gathered together to greet the much awaited Lord.  
He hugged everyone and greeted all people outside the Castle, even the ones he had never met before. Winterfell was already celebrating the arrival of the son that for too long had been missed.

“Septa? my Mother?” he asked as he was hugging his old nurse.

“In the Castle, look in the library.” She pointed to the window with red drapes over their heads, exhilarated and still incredulous to see the boy she had raised right in front of her. 

He nodded, "I missed you, Septa. I missed you all"

"Go to your Mother!" Septa pushed him, "She's waited long enough for you."

He waved to all of them as he ran on the stairs of the old castle that he used to call home. 

He hastily headed towards the library and quietly opened the glass door, "Mother!" he spoke before realizing there was a woman sitting on the armchair right beside the hearth, her head bowed reading a book in her hands. 

 

At the sound of the door opening Sansa immediately closed the book and stood up facing the man interrupting her reading. She realized who he was, the same man whose portray she had seen in the last three years in the Countess's chamber. 

It was him.

It was Jon Stark in person. He had returned to Winterfell.

The sudden surprise and those dark eyes staring incessantly into hers made her take a few steps back, leaning against the red drapes as though scared by his presence and the intensity of his gaze. She gulped unable to utter a single word as her heart beat faster every second that passed.

Jon was mesmerized by the beauty and grace of the girl standing in front of him, her deep blue eyes hypnotizing him, her red hair flowing down along her shoulders, perfectly crowning her delicate features. She looked like a Goddess, that simple, yet magnificent beauty he had never had the pleasure to witness in his whole life. 

“My Lady, I was told I….” he noticed as he was getting close to her, she would draw away from him, “I scared you, I’m sorry." He spoke sweetly, almost stretching out his arm to reassure her before realizing I'd be a bad manner and let his hand reluctantly fall.

“No, you didn’t.” She shook her head to recover from the evident state of awe “you are..”

“Count Jon Stark.”

“I know,” she replied remembering quite well the portrait in the Countess chamber. The portrait that certainly didn’t do him justice.

“I was waiting for you, my Lord.”

“At your disposal,” he was about to bow when she courted after reminding herself that it wasn’t proper to not court at the presence of the Count.

“Truly honored to finally meet you, my Lord.”

“The honor is mine, believe me” he smiled. He had no will, no desire to take his eyes off of that woman. Where did she come from? Who was she? Was she the woman who had sent him that letter?

“Your Mother is in her chamber, she doesn't know you've returned.” She spoke.

“Oh, yes my Mother,” his voice a bit gruff and absent, Sansa noticed.

"Come, she's in her chamber."

He opened the door for her, a gesture that left Sansa struck and confused. He was the Lord and she was the servant, why was he so courteous with her? She then headed towards the Countess's chamber as Lord Stark followed her and let him in, leaving Mother and son alone in their joy. 

Sansa walked back to the library and that thought hit her  _‘He thinks I am a Lady, he thinks I'm a noble woman’_. She panicked. There was no other explanation of his attitude, if he knew she was a mere servant, he wouldn't be so respectful of her. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those who remember the first chapter, I've revised it and I think it's better to read it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to write a second chapter and rewrite the first one to see once again the general reaction to this fic. I've noticed it barely got hits the first time I posted it and despite my love for this story, I'd really need feedback to keep writing, otherwise I might leave it here without any further chapters. 
> 
> I hope you like it.

“A lot has changed here, I hardly recognize anyone other than Septa and Theon. It’s home, but different,” Jon was walking around Winterfell’s gardens arm in arm with his mother, talking about all that changed while he was gone and his years he spent away from home.

“Since your father’s death, Winterfell has been decaying, our coffers are nearly empty and the King has deprived us of old privileges to help the peasantry. I am not in good spirits for his reforms, but I accept it. Many nobles, though, don't believe in his good soul and think it's all a plan to gain more power," she explained already tired of all the conjectures.

“I heard about the King’s reforms and how it has fueled discontent among aristocrats,” Jon had been away from home, but he was a soldier and was aware the King had made debatable decisions.

“The disquiet has spread all over the Kingdom, nonetheless Rhaegar is our King, he’s a wise man who has been ruling Westeros in ill times, we must have faith in his reign,” she said while gripping tightly her son’s arm to have a better support. The doctor had discouraged any physical exercise due to her heart condition, nonetheless the Countess decided to spend the day with her son in broad daylight, refusing to use a wheelchair to be carried around.

“I’m certain all nobles will put to rest this dissatisfaction once they'll notice the country's economy won't be stagnating anymore thanks to his reforms,” he buoyed her up.

“Enough with this! you’ve returned and that is all that counts in this moment, ten years is a long time to be away from home,” she patted Jon on his right arm weakly smiling at him.

“I’ve been away that long,” he said thoughtfully, “you must be angry with me.”

The Countess halted to look up at her son, “I was furious for your rash decision, it was unwise and childish of you to stay away from your own home for something that could have passed with time. Nevertheless,” she sighed, “you chose to serve the King, to be a soldier and that is honorable of you.”

“I was young and foolish, but remember I’ve always chosen what was best for me and I knew the army was my saving choice,” he took his mother hand and kissed it, “and forgive me for all these years of silence, you asked me to write more often but with the war and King’s Landing’s riots, I had little time and….”

“I understand that," she interrupted him, "you do not need to apologize, my son. Now, you’re safe in our home and I plan to host a reception to celebrate your return, I want all noble houses to know that Winterfell has an heir and House Stark is not dead as many have suggested.”

“Mother, I do not intend to upset you, but I’m only on one month furlough and I’m in no position to make any promise about my visit in Winterfell.”

“We’ll have time to discuss your duty in the army," she said fearing her son would be too stubborn to understand he had to find a way to stay and rule Winterfell, "now we have a reception to arrange.”

“You know I don’t particularly enjoy this type of event,” he moaned like a child, “I’m not apt to entertain trivial conversations and political debates.”

“I’m aware of that, you used to run away whenever your father and I hosted a feast," she laughed, "yet you’re a man now, the head of this family and you must attend to show Winterfell has a Lord. Furthermore, it is important to me, powerful people will be here and if we’re fortunate enough, we’ll have the honor to be joined by the King’s advisor himself and his wife,”she warned him, making sure her son would know beforehand.

“His wife?” he said gritting his teeth, “I’d rather not see her. She would be only a nuisance.”

“I do not need to remind you she is also King Rhaegar’s sister, do not speak ill of her," she reprimanded him.

“and I'd like to remind you that she is the reason why I left,” he bitterly said at the memory of those last days in Winterfell.

“I know, we’ve just discussed it was rash of you to leave. But that happened ten years ago, now she’s one of the most respected woman in all Kingdom, married to the King’s advisor and you will put aside your animosity for my sake,” Catelyn hadn’t been that strict over her decisions for many years, yet her high sense of honor and duty would never die out and when it came to the King, she would hear no objection from anyone.

“As you wish, Mother.” Jon obliged, particularly upset for the lack of empathy and understanding from his own mother. The King's sister was the woman who had ruined him as a young man, he had fallen for her, he had done everything for her and all he received was a mild goodbye and an invitation to her Royal Wedding. All the love and heartbreak perished with time, replaced by a growing sentiment of revenge he refused to let go of and brought with himself back to Winterfell.

He decided though, he could handle to meet one last time that woman and behave as his mother requested of him.

“On to more charming subjects,” Jon dismissed that bothersome topic to talk about someone who had been occupying his mind, “you still haven’t told me who is the loving girl that I met yesterday in the library.”

The Countess sighed knowing all too well what entailed that sweet voice of his, “She’s my lady companion and she’s very dear to me. All these years she’s been by my side more than anyone else, and she’s like a daughter to me.”

“Does she have a name?” he asked curiously.

“Sansa. Sansa of Winterfell they call her.”

“That’s her,” he whispered to himself, unwittingly smiling at the thought of the breathtaking girl that had welcomed him.

“I love her like my own daughter and I wish nothing deplorable would happen to her,” she hastened to add, knowing her son would arguably already have his eyes on her.

“More than Arya?” he jokingly asked.

“I love Arya, but you know we have our differences and whilst she’s been caring, she hasn't changed at all and she's still the unpredictable girl you once knew. I lost any hope to discipline her," she shook her head, "she will always be masculine and will constantly dress like a man while riding her horse and training with her sword. She's free spirited and barely follow the rules," she sighed a bit fatigued, "she’s not apt to rule a Castle, Jon.”

“You’re too harsh on her, she may be different than any other noble woman, but she knows her duties and she will comply one day.”

“My hopes for our family to flourish again are on you, my son. With you ruling and giving an heir to Winterfell, I'd rest in peace with the awareness that the legacy of this family will live on.”

Jon said nothing, he did not wish to aggravate her health situation by admitting his decision to not take wife and have children. It would only disappoint her.

 

 

As the Countess was spending time with her beloved son, Sansa decided to help Septa in the kitchens in preparation for the reception the Starks would host in five days. The Castle had not held any sort of feast or reception for many years and much work had to be done in time before any of the guests would arrive. Sansa would always help, even if it was not her place for such chores, she would always offer her spare time to help the other servants; it was a reminder of who she was, where she came from and how she was raised.

While washing the dishes, Septa told Sansa of Theon's odd behavior since the Count visited him in the stables. He was a bit distant and cold, he barely uttered a word and, according to the other stable boy, he only nodded whenever the Count asked him a question. Sansa felt there was something wrong, something that was bothering him, so she headed to the stables where she knew she’d find him.

“So much time since you last came in here. What is it for, my lady?”

“I’m not a lady!” she poked him, “and I just wanted to see if you’re fine.”

“First, I’m fine and second, you’re a lady to me. And apparently even the Count himself thinks so,” he winked as he brushed Jon’s horse's mane.

She gaped, “he mistakingly took me for a lady, probably because of my nice dress and...and...I was reading, servants usually cannot read,” she stuttered trying to find a reason to explain the situation, “and how do you know that? We were alone!” for unknowing reasons she was blushing and had the instinct to justify herself for things that never happened.

He turned around and looked at her a bit amused, “five years here and you’re still so naive. Jeyne was eavesdropping you.”

“Again? Will she ever stop sticking her nose into my personal matters?”

Theon’s face abruptly went from amused to quite vexed, “personal matters? she’s simply jealous of you. All maids in this Castle are particularly envious and I don't blame them, you're the most beautiful woman in Westeros.”

Sansa blushed at the compliment, “I know many are not happy that a maid has become a lady companion, but it is not my fault and I have no more privilege than any of you. There’s nothing to be jealous about,” Sansa had found herself more than once distressed due to the poor treatment reserved to her by a few maids. She was no different than any servant, but apparently to them she had gained privileges she was not entitled to.

Theon scoffed at her, “are you sure there’s nothing to be jealous of? Jeyne told me the Count couldn’t keep his eyes off of you and neither could you.”

Sansa then understood the real problem, “oh, so that is the problem. You are the jealous one," she stated.

“I….”, he closed his eyes trying to contain the boiling rage inside of him, “he comes back, lays his eyes on you and you’re….his, while I’m still here being rejected over and over again. That's ridiculous."

“You’re ridiculous! I’m not anyone’s property and I barely spoke to the Count, all Jeyne told you was just an assumption,” she raised her voice to make her point very clear, “you have to stop listening to her and her lies.”

“You want to tell me he didn’t strike you when you first saw him? Come on," he chuckled, "I remember when all girls would drool over him and would pay anything to have his attention for a second, don't lie to me."

“Theon...."

“So it’s true," he wouldn't let her speak, "impossible to resist his charm, isn't it?”

Sansa found herself trapped in a corner for it was the truth. Count Jon had an effect on her she was trying to avoid at all costs, but his dark eyes penetrating to the core of her soul, his black curly hair tied up in a bun and his elegant and regal posture as he delicately approached her, it was all her mind was pervaded by.

“I cannot lie, he's charming," she admitted, "but from this to....not being able to resist him? You're going too far with your imagination,” she said out loud while replaying in her head that moment their eyes connected and it felt like breathing fresh air after being trapped in a suffocating, damp room all her life.

Theon then grabbed her by the waist and moved her closer to him, only a few inches separating their lips, “I love you, Sansa.”

Trapped like this, she thought. Trapped between two strong arms the spread neither warmth nor safety, “I’ve been in love with you since you arrived here. We can live close to the Castle, have a home all for ourselves and our future kids. I’d work here, they pay well enough for you to stay home and take care of the kids. We could have a happy life together, don’t you see that?”

“Stop. Theon, I don’t want that.” with you, she wanted to add, but she stopped herself from hurting him any longer. She gently untangled herself from him, laying her hand on his chest, “you’re a good man and I care about you, but….” and she thought for a second what she could say to him other than that she wasn’t in love with him, "I need to think about this, it is not easy. It’s a life time commitment.”

“Then, think about it,” he said with a broken heart, aware she didn’t love him like he loved her, but he could live with that if only she would give him a chance, “I could make you happy and you could learn to love me.”

“I will be giving a thought about your proposal,” she told him to make him feel better, though she knew in her heart that you could not learn how to love a person, it wasn't a logic choice to make.

 

 

 

That same afternoon, Jon was sitting in the library at his father’s desk contemplating the documents Captain Blackfyre had put in his hands before his death. They were still sealed, carrying what seemed to be a mortal danger to the King himself. He was deeply torn whether he had to open and read what was inside, however his previous conversation with his mother about the discontent running among the Noble houses due to the King’s reforms, had him worried about his safety and what those documents would entail for the King’s fate.  
He was either unsure and eager, yet there was as a part of him that told him to deliver the documents as soon as possible to the King and avoid any sort of knowledge about their content.

As he was about to open the papers, he heard steps from the hall and the door of the library opening. He quickly hid the documents into a book, when he took a glimpse of her again. In all her beauty, unaware of his presence, she was treading at ease as though she didn’t expect anyone to be in there, comfortable and joyous among all those books. He smiled eyeing that natural, innocent creature who seemed to come out of a fairytale or probably from one of the romantic novels his mother loved being read.

He coughed to make his presence known and she turned around, just as scared as the first time he met her.

“Lord Count, I didn’t know you were here,” she was startled to have him in there in the only room no one ever used, “I’m sorry, I’m not used to knock,” she courted and swiftly headed to the door to leave the Count alone.

He stood up, “you shouldn’t apologize,” she stopped midway and turned around to face him as he kept speaking, “usually no one would come in here except for my mother, but I was gone for many years and I need to accustom to the several changes in this Castle,” he smiled as he approached her “anyhow, I would like to have a proper, private conversation with you.”

Sansa felt unsure about the topic of the private talk, but she nodded and waited for him to speak first.

“You’re very dear to my mother, this morning she spent wondrous words about you.”

“As she’s dear to me, I owe everything to her.”

“Is that why you wrote to me?”

Sansa panicked, afraid that letter would cause trouble considering it had been forbidden to write directly to the Count, “My Lord, no one knows about that letter, and I’d prefer for you to not make any word of it.”

He chuckled amused by the veil of secrecy she kept over her letter, “and why is that? if it weren’t for your letter, I wouldn’t be here and I would have never known about my mother's health conditions.”

“It’s not that simple, you do have a stubborn family. They’d be harsh on me if they knew that I…lured you home, “ Jon mischievously smiled, “your aunt would probably send me away.”

“My aunt should be of no concern to you. I was glad to receive that letter and I’d like to thank you for such kindness. My family has respected my wish to stay in the army and I presume they never wanted me to worry.”

“They all missed you, though.”

Someone suddenly knocked on the door, it was Jeyne carrying a tray with a porcelain teapot and a cup. She was serving tea to the Count as he had requested before Sansa would enter the library.

“Your tea, my Lord.”

“yes, yes. Bring another cup for the lady," he ordered without diverting his gaze from Sansa.

“For me?” Sansa asked as Jeyne looked at her utterly dazed by the Count's command.

“Don’t you like tea? Would you rather have something else?” He gently asked.

Sansa lightly shook her head, “no, tea is fine.”

“Then, please sit.”

Jeyne was standing still, and Sansa understood she was both confused and angered, “didn’t you hear what I told you?" Jon scolded her, "bring another cup for the lady.”

Jeyne ran and Sansa sat on the sofa where she usually read romantic novels to the Countess, never imagining she would drink tea with the Count.

A servant was not to be seated with her Lord, a servant was not be treated as an equal, let alone drink tea together and be served by other maids.

"I'd like to talk about my mother," he chimed into her thoughts.

"uhm...yes. You mother has been asking about you since the day she had her first major crisis, I felt terrible not writing to you.”

“Is she that ill?”

Sansa nodded, “the doctor says her heart won’t make it for another year, and he’s deeply worried about her condition. But you’re here now, and she seems to feel better."

“I don't intend to destroy any of your hopes, but I won't be staying in Winterfell for long," he clarified.

“What do you mean?” she irreverently stood up, "you can't leave again," she almost shouted.

"Nice...temper," he joked and in that moment she felt silly for easily losing her composure.

“I care about your mother, deeply. Due to your long absence, she has suffered fearing she would never see you again," she explained, "she has dreamed this day for many years, hoping you would return to rule Winterfell and...and now you tell me you will leave again? I cannot accept that," she dared to say.

“well, I don’t like others deciding my future. My love for my mother and my family won't alter my choice, do you understand?" he peevishly retorted.

Sansa gasped at his answer and brusque manners, “I didn’t mean to offend you, my lord.” she said regretfully, “but your mother has waited years for your return, only to leave again….” she insisted.

“In a month, to be precise.”

“A month..." she repeated.

“and I’m a soldier, my regiment is waiting for me. A year away from my duties is unacceptable considering I have no plans to rule Winterfell after my mother’s death."

"I understand, I misinterpreted the reason of your return," she courted, ready to leave before she would yell at him for his lack of duty towards his family and his people.

"unless…” he added staring at her with the same gaze he had the morning before when they first met, “unless something happens and changes my mind.”

Sansa felt her heart racing as his eyes didn't lie about the implication that his words meant, “then, let’s hope this something happens," she coquettishly said before leaving the library.


End file.
